­­That wily brute beneath us

I aged into that song 
heard so long ago about
a brute so old, so terrible,
that wily brute beneath us
One thing you can say about him—
as our singularities age, our
bitter stone beast remains

We carved the classics into stone,
buried them within his tomb,
dug them up and there they bled,
became an elaborate awakening
as if such work could elaborately lull me
Vibration is the fundamental status of
nature—particles are just what’s seen

Frightful, delightful, we never tire
and we weren’t afraid of fire,
scientism, or the illusions of certainty
The mist descended in silvery specks
What a beautiful moon streak cloud
that night, cloudy, silvery, wet
You should never have left me

Into our grand narrative,
she  thought emotional ties a
nuisance to hide away until
she actually needed them—
but nobody likes to be treated
that way, like a particle of
convenience, that enlightens

the fields and bludgeons change
Never mind, I wasn’t looking
for a wife—I sought instead a
recurrence, excitations within the
fields, the blue backdrop of eternity,
heaven, big wheels, spectral wheels,
a memory stream lit from behind

Our politics are our disgrace, our leaders
are our shame, “I like music that
lulls me” like a biology of time
within eternity, folklore and the illusions
of certainty, excitations of particle scrutiny
as the mist descends in wily silvery
specks, taking you away from me

-January 12, 2019-